


you pull me in

by yoursongonmyheart



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Famous Louis, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Model Louis, Non-Famous Harry, Phone Sex, Teacher Harry, like not really at all but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:12:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoursongonmyheart/pseuds/yoursongonmyheart
Summary: “Did you really wear silk jammies to meet him?” Fizzy is almost in tears.He’s going to kill them.He’s really going to kill them.Ernie throws his backpack on the floor before telling Fizzy, quite loudly, “Mr. Styles looked at Achoo like this” and making an exaggerated jaw dropped face.“That is not what happened!” Louis protests.“And Achoo looked at Mr. Styles like that, too!” Doris pulls the same face before laughing.------//or the one where Louis is a model, Harry teaches Doris and Ernie at primary and now might be a good time to fall in love.





	you pull me in

**Author's Note:**

> feliz cumpleaños jowii. eres la mejor. te lo prometo.

Louis Tomlinson hasn’t been home in 3 weeks. He’d been on a shoot in Argentina, freezing his balls off on some glaciers while the cameras flashed. The view made up for it, though. And the fact that it was for a spread in Vogue, that was also pretty impressive. 

But now he’s so glad to be in the comfortable October air of Manchester (comparable to his loss of proper heat flow for the last few weeks, at least), and so glad to be able to sleep in his warm duvet at home. 

When he first started modeling at 18, he’d moved into a flat in London with his best friend and fellow up and coming model, Zayn Malik. It’d been difficult being away from his family for the first time, difficult living in a completely different city, but he had made it work going back and forth whenever he could. 

But then, Zayn and him booked a dual gig, a full spread in Highsnobiety, and suddenly both of them were walking in Fashion Week, on covers of magazines both together and apart, at every Hollywood party, being papped at every club, the whole nine yards. 

Then, Zayn met Liam Payne, popstar and “it” boy, and everything exploded even more. 

The three of them probably partied way too much across, well, the entire fucking world to be honest, and Louis isn’t really sure he remembers all of being 23. 

Now, at 25, Louis has slowed down a bit (read: a lot, he’s practically fallen off the face of the Earth and just started working a little bit again) , wanting to see his family more, wanting to relax, wanting some privacy. Wanting a whole lot less of being papped everywhere he goes and a lot more of Sunday roasts with his mum, step dad, and siblings. 

He calls an Uber as he steps out of the airport, texting his Mum that he’s home and going to take a long nap, hoping that she’ll pass it onto the girls. He’s pretty sure the house should be empty though, with Daisy and Pheobe at secondary, Fizzy at Uni, Lottie at the salon, his Mum at work at the non-profit charity she works at, and Dan, his step-dad, at work. Oh, and the youngest twins, Doris and Ernie, at their first year of primary. 

He’s pretty sure he should be covered. 

He’s going to sleep for five hours, everyone else be damned. 

His Uber driver must recognize his desperation for a warm duvet, because he drives faster than probably is legal and Louis is beyond grateful. 

He even tips him some extra cash, just because. 

Louis unlocks the front door of their house, heaving a sigh of relief at the sweet, sweet, rare silence.

He’s so glad he bought this house for everyone. It was the perfect location for everyone’s needs, and big enough for them all. 

He thinks of it as his best purchase to date. 

Well, that and the Spiderman statue in the backyard. 

The most perfect part, is that absolutely no one knows about it. Louis has made a point from the very start of his career to never, ever, talk about his family. He and Zayn had decidedly mutually one night, out of fear for their sisters, that they’d never share a photo, nothing. The public doesn’t know about their families, and the public never will, hopefully. 

Well, Lottie is making her own name, using just her first name, as a makeup artist, but that’s beside the point. 

Louis pads his way to his bedroom, the last door on the left, just like in the house he grew up in, strips down, and all but flings himself onto the duvet. In seconds, he’s asleep. 

\---

There’s a shrill ringing that drags Louis out of his stupor, and immediately he can recognize it’s before the allotted 5 hours he’d been wishing for. 

Typical. 

“Louis!” Lottie is screaming in his ear when he picks up the phone. “I need you to go pick up Doris and Ernie from primary, I’m running late and Fizz can’t do it.” 

“Okay,” Louis groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “When?” 

“Um, fifteen minutes,” Lottie says a little sheepishly. 

“Fifteen minutes?” Louis sits up immediately. “It’ll take me fifteen minutes to drive there, Lots!” 

“I know, I’m sorry!” She doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Gotta go, love you, bye!” 

Fuck. 

Louis grabs the first pair of pants he spots on the ground, a pair of blue silk pajama bottoms, a white t-shirt that he’s not even sure is clean, and some slippers before he’s out the door. 

He’s hoping he doesn’t even need to get out of the car. Kindergarteners can just come to a car, right?

No. 

Fuck, he’s screwed, but Lottie is already texting him that he’s only got ten minutes and it’s the last door that they’ll come out of, Room 28, and he’s already out the door. 

He’s gonna look like a fucking disaster, but honestly, who is there to impress? A whole bunch of mums with their kids? No. 

He’s fine. The silk pajamas are fine. 

He pulls up to the primary car park, and sees a few straggling parents walking up to the last door, a big 28 on the door. 

Louis is late. 

And he’s going to have to get out of the car. 

He sighs, before opening the car door and walking up to the Kindergarten door, his head firmly down and not making eye contact with anyone. 

He should have fucking brought a hat. 

The door opens just as he’s about to knock, and he takes a step back, hearing a deep voice. 

“Usually your sisters are here by now,” the voice starts, but is interrupted by a screech and Doris running full speed. 

“Doris!” the voice yells again. 

Louis crouches down immediately, bracing himself for impact from his littlest sister. “Hello, my little angel!” 

Ernie comes next, plowing into his sister, and almost knocking Louis down. 

“And my little man!” Louis kisses the both of them repeatedly. 

God, he missed them so much, three weeks was far, far, far too long. 

He stands up after a second of too hard squeezing and giggling, only to find himself face to face with, well, the most gorgeous man that Louis thinks he’s ever seen. 

And he’s been modeling for the last 7 years practically. 

He’s got a soft smile playing on his lips, seemingly from the quite cute reunion, big beautiful green eyes, long legs with sturdy, very sturdy, thighs, and a jawline that quite frankly revelled Zayn’s. 

Not to mention he was wearing a floral shirt and shiny boots. 

Louis swallows. 

“Um, can I just, take them then?” Louis asks, a little unsurely. 

“Do you have ID?” the man squeaks, his ears and cheeks tinged pink. 

Louis’ hands fly to his bum, reaching for his wallet before realizing he’s in fact, not wearing the jeans he was wearing earlier. He had thrown the wallet from those jeans into the car. 

And remembering once again that, he’s in his fucking silk pajama pants. 

He’s going to absolutely murder Lottie. 

“‘Fraid not,” Louis shakes his head, trying not to focus on the way he man’s eyes had tracked his movements and snapped his eyes back up to his. “It’s in the car though if you’d like me to go get it?” 

“No, no, that’s fine. We can try something else to verify,” the man winks at Louis, before bending down to the twins. “Doris, Ernie, who is taking you home today?” 

“Achoo!” they both yell simultaneously. 

Louis laughs and the man wrinkles a brow at them, but smiles all the same. 

“That is my name, according to them, at least. Plus, how were you going to verify? You don’t even know my name,” Louis teases him, loving the pink that goes a little more rosy. 

“Can we go play for a second, Achoo?” Doris interrupts. 

“Yeah, go ahead, angel, just so I can see you,” Louis tells her, and her and Ernie are off. 

Louis turns his attention back to the man, raising his eyebrows expectantly. 

He coughs, running a hand through his hair before mumbling out a, “I think everyone knows your name, Louis.” 

Louis tuts. “Well, that’s simply not fair. No one told me the name of Doris and Ernie’s teacher,” he stops for a second. “You are their teacher, right?” 

The man laughs, bright and loud. “Yes, I am their teacher. And I’m Mr. Styles to them, but Harry to everyone else who above the age of 10.” 

“Harry,” Louis puts out his hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.” 

Harry takes his hand, much larger and calloused than Louis’, and shakes it. He also seemingly gets a wave of confidence, because he’s blurting out, “Nice to meet you too, Louis. I like your silk jammies.” 

Louis narrows his eyes. 

Harry laughs.

“Doris, Ernie!” he yells. 

They come running up immediately. 

He bends down to their level? “Do you like this, Mr. Styles, character here?” 

“Yes!” Doris shrieks. 

“We love Mr. Styles! He plays guitar and we do yoga and we bake and we cook,” Ernie rambles. 

“And he’s nice and he plaits my hair and he reads to me!” Doris chimes in. 

Louis hums exaggeratedly, before standing up and looking at Harry. 

“I’ll forgive you for the comment about my jammies, just this once, Styles. But, I don’t ever want to hear sass from you again,” Louis waves a finger at him. 

Harry salutes, before giggling.

“Let’s go, children. Tell Mr. Styles, you’ll see him tomorrow!” Louis tells them. 

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Styles!” 

The kids are off, running towards the car, but Louis turns, just for a second, to find Harry watching right back, offering a small wave. 

Louis waves back. 

\--

Lottie is there once they get home. 

And so is Fizzy. 

“You two!” Louis growls. 

They both spot him, eyes wide as theythen trail over his body. 

They look at each other, and then back at him, then back at each other before cracking up. 

“I see you’ve met Mr. Styles,” Lottie barely gets out. 

“Did you really wear silk jammies to meet him?” Fizzy is almost in tears. 

He’s going to kill them.

He’s really going to kill them. 

Ernie throws his backpack on the floor before telling Fizzy, quite loudly, “Mr. Styles looked at Achoo like this” and making an exaggerated jaw dropped face. 

“That is not what happened!” Louis protests. 

“And Achoo looked at Mr. Styles like that, too!” Doris pulls the same face before laughing. 

“I am going to get you two a snack, and you’re going take out your homework in the meantime otherwise no sweets!” Louis threatens, before storming off to the kitchen. 

He did not look at Harry like that. 

He did not. 

\----

Lottie and Fizzy have plans at 3:45 p.m. the rest of the week. 

Between classes, appointments, and getting their nails done, they’re very busy girls. 

They’re fucking brats, is what they are. 

Meddling brats. 

Just because Louis hasn’t gone on a proper date or like, had a proper boyfriend like, ever, does not mean they get to just choose for him. 

Though, Louis can’t help but admit they did choose a really good one, as he walks up to the school the next day. 

Harry’s wearing glitter boots this time, and an all black outfit. 

He stands out in the doorway of the classroom, a shining little star with a dimpled smile and a train of kids. 

Louis’ stomach swoops. 

Doris and Ernie are last in line, running to Louis and grabbing his hand, asking Mr. Styles if they can show their brother the classroom. 

“Of course!” Harry chirps, before looking at Louis. “No Lottie or Fizzy again?” he asks and Louis shakes his head. 

“You know, they did warn me about a brother that was coming in for the week. Just wasn’t quite the brother I was expecting,” he looks at Louis a little shyly. 

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Louis asks, cocking his head to the side, before registering what Harry had just said. “Wait, they warned you?” 

Harry furrows his brow. “Yeah, just like gave me a heads up for someone else picking up the twins.” 

Louis laughs incredulously. 

“Harry, Harold. My sisters, my evil, evil, sisters, are playing us both.” 

Harry looks at him for a second, before his eyes are widening and he’s coughing. “Oh!”

“Oh, Oh,” Harry drawls out. “Well, um,” he starts, but Doris interrupts. 

“Look! This is where we play centers, and this is where we have handwriting,” she drags Louis all around the classroom. 

Harry follows as Louis follows, with clumsy feet almost tripping over Ernie as he buzzes around the classroom eager to show him absolutely everything. 

It's when they're looking at some art that Louis turns to Harry only to find him staring with a quizzical look on his face.

“What's that face for?” Louis whispers.

Harry just stares back even more confused. “How did your sisters know that I was gay?”

Louis barks out a laugh, raspy and high that has Harry smiling in seconds.

“I think that my sisters just,” Louis stutters for a second when Harry blinks slowly at him, green eyes so focused on him. “I think they just know what I like and hoped for the best.”

Harry swallows audibly. “Oh.”

Louis hesitates for a second. “I hope you don't mind?” 

Harry squeaks. 

“No, I just, I,” he rambles. “Sisters are a bit intuitive, I guess, aren’t they?”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’ve got my magazines pinned up on your walls?” 

Harry blushes red. 

“You do!” Louis accuses.

“My sister teased me for having your Highsnobriety pinup on my wall for most of my adolescence, okay?” Harry blurts out, but he actually doesn’t sound too embarrassed at all. 

Louis hums, pleased. 

When Louis sees himself and the twins out after they’re done, this time it’s knowing that Harry is definitely watching. 

He throws a little hip into his step. 

\---

“So,” Louis starts over dinner, three days later. “I’ll be home for the next couple of months for the most part, nothing but odd jobs here and there so, I think I’ll start taking Doris and Ernie to and from school everyday to help out.” 

There’s silence and then, low snickers in between loud cackles.

He throws the girls a death glare and looks to his mother. 

Jay just raises her eyebrows at him before nodding. “Sure, Boo. Whatever you’d like.” 

And then she joins in on the cackles and honestly, Louis should just consider moving out.

Again. 

\----

Louis and Harry spend November and December flirting their way through drop off and pick up, much to the teasing of Doris and Ernie. They last about a week of actually staying in the classroom before Harry is offering for them to walk around the park nearby. It becomes a routine, Louis picks them up, Harry grabs his bag, and all four of them head to the park while the kids play, and Harry and Louis look over kid’s work and prepare lessons. 

It’s so starkly different from everything Louis has been involved with the last 7 years. It’s so much more hands-on, so much more careful, tedious, and Louis finds himself loving every moment he can help Harry out and learn more about everything he’s doing. 

Well, I mean it also doesn’t hurt that Harry’s voice sounds like it’s dipped in honey and listening to him ramble about the importance of handwriting is probably the most attractive thing to Louis and he can’t quite explain why. 

But everyday they scoot a little closer, talk a little lower, and learn a little more, and I mean, it’s only because it’s getting colder. 

They’ve got to keep warm, don’t they?

\----

Louis finds himself actually dreading Christmas Hols knowing that he won’t be able to see Harry everyday. 

“Louis, stop pouting and come here, it’s one week! Do you need to write him a card like Doris and Ernest?” Jay tuts at him while he’s helping her with the dishes. 

“No!” he squawks. “I’m not pouting!”

“You really like him, my little love?” She asks gently. 

Louis looks up at her a little helplessly. He’s almost 26, for God’s sake. 

“Yeah, I think do,” he tells her. 

And it’s the truth. 

\---

The thing is, Louis left at 18 and didn’t come back until 24 and his best friend fell in love, but he never did. 

Sure, he had flings and one night stands and he met plenty of models, actors, singers, but, nothing, no one, made him look twice. 

Not one person. 

He’d look at Ziam (as he affectionately called them) and think, yeah, maybe someday I’d have that. 

He’d look at the twins as his mother and step-dad doted over and think, yeah, maybe one day I’d really like to have that. 

But he’d never looked at a person and thought, yeah, maybe I’d like this for the rest of my life. 

Until he looked at Harry. 

\----

Harry’s not quite sure how his luck managed to find him Louis Tomlinson at the door of his classroom that first day. 

It’s his second year teaching and Harry has had a pretty mundane life up until this point. 

He had a wild time in Uni, but like, he’s been relatively tame for the most part. Save for the fact that he’s best friends with Ed Sheeran and has gone on part of tour as a stage-hand, but that’s beside the point. 

Harry’s had a relatively tame life, and he loves it. Absolutely loves taking his camera out on the weekend, filling his journals with words every night, singing karaoke with his friends at the pub. He loves everything he does, loves waking up and teaching bright eyes and eager minds. He absolutely loves it. 

But, he’s also never met someone like Louis, who from the very first day has had him craving more, more, more. 

He hadn’t been expecting it, him, to be quite honest. 

Hadn’t expected someone so lovely, so dedicated, so private, so warm, so attached to his family. 

Harry had followed his career loosely, he hadn’t been lying about Louis and Zayn Malik being pinned up on his wall for the most part of his adolescence (but he’d left out the part of it definitely helping with his big gay awakening). He knew of Louis Tomlinson, the model and resident partier for the better half of the last year years, before disappearing completely. 

But nothing prepared him for the actual Louis, bright, soft, and a bit like the sun. 

\---

Christmas break passes with absolutely no contact from Harry, seeing as Louis actually doesn’t have his phone number (“You’re a goddamn idiot, Lou, just ask for his number!”), and Louis very well might miss him. 

He wonders briefly if Harry misses him, too. 

\---

Harry envelopes Louis in a hug as soon as he walks through the threshold of the classroom for drop off.

“Missed you, Lou,” he whispers into the hug. 

Before Louis can even spy the redness on his cheeks, he ducks down to Ernie and Doris, hugging them tightly, too. 

“How was your break, Mr. Styles?” Doris asks excitedly. 

“Ours was awesome! We got,” Ernie lists off every toy that they got for Christmas. 

“Lottie said that Louis was sad though because you were not under our-” Doris starts but Louis clamps his hand over her mouth with a laugh. 

Harry’s heart skips a bit. 

“Oh, really?” Harry asks with a smile, looking right back up to Louis whose cheeks are red, but eyes are so, so very blue. “Did you miss me then, too, Lou?” 

The twins nod and say ‘yes’ exaggeratedly. 

Louis just scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Missed you quite a bit, you big git.” 

Harry’s smile is blinding. 

He thinks he feels on top of the world, a bit. 

\----

January passes and Louis still hasn’t worked up the courage to ask for Harry’s number. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s talked to him any less. 

He thinks he doesn’t need his phone number, he knows plenty about him without it. 

Knows how he likes his coffee, and his tea, knows how to make him laugh, knows the soft curves of his body, knows the way he thinks. 

He can wait. 

Lottie and Fizzy just prefer to think he has no balls. 

\---

Fizzy got a good mark on an exam she for sure thought she was going to fail, so Louis decides to be a good big brother and take the girls out. 

They walk into the pub, settling down at a table in the corner, Louis going up to get them drinks. 

There’s a booming Irish voice, quite frankly yelling, in his ear about birthday shots, and Louis decides to turn around to see where the fun is. 

He turns to his left and his heart stops. 

Because there’s Harry, looking actually illegal with a sheer shirt unbuttoned way too low, and pants looking like they’re painted on. 

“Lou!” Harry yells, louder than the Irishman had been yelling, which was actually at a decibel high enough to garner the attention of dogs, Louis thinks. 

He rubs his ears, and giggles at the glassy look already in Harry’s eyes. 

“Hello, love,” he says, and the blonde whips his head around so fast, Louis thinks he’s broken his neck.

“Love?” He shrieks. “You’re really Louis. You’re actually real.” 

He reaches out and pokes him in the face with slight awe. 

Harry swats his hand away. “Don’t touch him, Niall.” 

“Jesus, H,” Niall rubs his arm. “Are ya here alone, Louis?” 

“No, my sisters,” Louis turns around to point to his sisters at the table only to find them walking up right beside them, “are right here. We’re celebrating Fizzy getting a good mark.” 

The girls introduce themselves to Niall and greet Harry with matching smirks. 

“I think your sisters know,” Harry leans into Louis, whispering actually very loudly. 

Louis laughs, while Lottie whispers back exaggeratedly, “They definitely do.” 

“So birthday shots?” Niall claps his hands in form of distraction. 

“It’s your birthday?” Louis looks at Harry, lethally. “I dropped the kids off and picked them up and you didn’t tell me once it was your birthday!” 

“Don’t like to tell the kids, they get too riled up,” Harry tells him a little miserably. “I’m sorry, Lou. But you’re here!” He smiles like the sun, throwing his arms around Louis. 

“I am here,” Louis confirms.

“Wanted to ask you to come, got too nervous,” Harry mumbles into his neck. 

Louis blushes red. “Birthday shots for everyone!” He blurts. 

He’s gonna need to catch up to Harry if he’s making it through this night. 

 

\---

A bit (read: a lot) of alcohol later, Louis only has faint sensory memory of the night before. Him pressed up against Harry on the dance floor, his bum grinding circles into Harry’s hips, Harry’s sweaty forehead leaning against his shoulder. The feel of Harry’s fingerprints on his hips. Harry whispering in his ear that he was the ‘best birthday present ever’. 

He’s pretty sure not even his hangover from hell could wipe the smile of his face. 

Until, Fizzy reminds him that he still didn’t even manage to snag his number. Or snog his face off. 

Fucking sisters, man. 

\---

It’s Sunday night and Louis gets a text reminding that he’s got to be in Paris for the next three weeks. 

The odd jobs he’s been taking the past six months have been lower level, more artsy/fashion heavy gigs. Ones that didn’t require a lot of legwork, and were based in London. He had cut a lot of ties before his ‘break’, amiably, but he still wasn’t ready for a long term stint. The Vogue shoot was his last big shoot, and it had been the biggest one he had done in the 6 months prior. He wasn’t sure he really wanted one again. But he had forgotten he’d booked a Paris shoot for three weeks, some sort of on location concept that he couldn’t really remember the details of. 

“Mom! Did you know I’m leaving for Paris tomorrow?” Louis calls out. 

“Yes, boo! It’s been on the calendar!” he hears her yell back. 

Fuck. 

“I did all your washing though!” she yells again. 

He’s got the greatest mum in the world, he swears. 

\----

He gets the Doris and Ernie ready for school in the morning, knowing that Lottie is the one taking them. 

“Okay, listen up you lot. Doris, you have to show Mr. Styles your homework first. There’s a very important note on there that he has to see. And Ernie, you have one too, but you need to show him second, okay?” Louis goes to their level and gives them a stern look. “Understand?” 

“Got it, Achoo!” They nod in unison. 

God, one can only hope. 

\----

Harry’s surprised, and a little panicked, to see Lottie on Monday morning. 

He couldn’t remember much of his birthday, just Louis’ lithe hips against his and his hands on his neck, but he clearly remembers Louis being just as um, interested, as he was. 

“Don’t worry,” she winks as soon as she walks through the door with Doris and Ernie, and then she’s blowing a kiss and she’s gone. 

Harry realizes what she means when 10 minutes later Doris and Ernie are bolting up to his desk with their homework. 

“I have to give mine first!” Doris cries out, thrusting the paper in front of Harry. 

There’s a sticky note on the top corner with 10 digits. 

_Here’s my number. Please use it wisely._

The handwriting is scratchily underneath the digits. 

“Me next!” Ernie almost pushes Doris out of the way, putting his paper on top of hers. 

There’s another post-it. 

_And by use it wisely, I mean text me today as soon as you’re done work. I’m off to Paris for 3 weeks. I forgot, honestly. But, please text me._

Harry can’t shake his excitement.

Finally, he’s got Louis’ number. 

\---

_Hiiiiii. Are you in Paris yet?_

That’s the first message that pops up as soon as Louis turns on his phone after take off. 

_Noo :( I’m on the plane now. I’m booooorreeeeeed Harold_

_I’m sorry you are bored, Lewis but I can’t help. You’re the one who ran off to Paris!_

_I forgot about it completely :( Three weeks!!!_

_I was a bit worried this morning when it was Lottie instead of you this morning, thought I had messed up at the pub._

Louis runs a hand over his face. But another text pops up. 

_Think I might miss you the next three weeks._

Louis swallows. 

_You didn’t mess up at the pub. Well, I mean, you could have kissed me, but, I think I’d prefer that sober, anyway._

Louis’ heart is about to beat out of his chest. 

_And I think I might miss you, too._

The next reply is quick. 

_Think I’d prefer to be sober, too. When you come home, then._

\------

If Louis thought not having Harry’s phone number was bad, having Harry’s phone number is so much worse. 

Louis is sure he’s going to die of sexual frustration from Harry’s need to send him picture of absolutely everything. 

Bath photos, yoga photos, cooking photos, baking photos, Doris and Ernie’s artwork photos. 

Tons of selfies. 

Louis is honestly surprised he hasn’t sent him a dick pic yet. 

Louis sends him pictures back, of everything that reminds him of Harry. 

Which turns out to be a lot of fucking things. 

The little kids in a carriage on the street, a croissant, an old man in a silly hat, a yoga class under the Eiffel Tower, the lock bridge. 

He sends him selfies right back, too. Pictures of his outfits, his hair, his makeup, everything under the sun. 

They FaceTime each other every night, until one of them falls asleep, soft breathing on the other end of the phone. 

Louis’ falls a little harder with Harry’s laugh, every tender question he asks, every smile he makes.

How could he not?

\---

_Do you like modeling?_

Is the text Louis gets in the middle of his shoot. He’s just changed his outfit, and he stares down at his phone. 

In the 6 months that Louis has known Harry, he’s never asked him that question. He knows how Louis got his start, knows everything there could, but they never went there. The questions never strayed there. 

In the 7 years that he’s been doing this, he doesn’t think anyone has ever asked him this. 

It makes Louis stop, for just a second. 

_I’ll talk to you about it later._

\---

“I think,” Louis starts as soon as Harry answers the phone. “I think that a long time ago, I loved modeling. I loved everything about a shoot, the thrill of walking down a runway. I loved meeting everyone and I loved going out with Ziam and I loved it all.” 

“Is there a but to this?” Harry asks softly. 

“But, you know there’s always been this distance. Between famous me, and real me, like with everything I told you about my family and why they’ve been so far away from everything. I feel like, I feel like,” Louis sighs staring at his duvet in a Paris hotel. “I feel like, I love this more. I feel more natural doing what I’ve been doing, you know? Waking up and taking the twins to school. Things like that.” 

Harry hums on the other end, as if he knows instinctively that Louis isn’t finished. 

“I’ve been, I’ve actually been writing, a bit,” Louis lets slip out, naturally as ever. “To keep myself from being bored. I think, after learning from you about how you create these ideas on how to teach kids, how you create everything really, it kind of, really opened my eyes? I guess? I had done it before, but never like this. And I’ve started creating my own words and my own, I mean I guess you could call them songs, I showed one to Liam and he just about shit a brick.” 

Harry laughs. “You told Liam Payne about a song you wrote and you didn’t tell me?” He guffaws, mock-offended. 

“I mean, I guess, I suppose,” Louis draws out. “I suppose I could show you them.” 

The ‘they’re about you anyway’ goes unsaid. 

Harry giggles. “So is that what you want to do then? Give up on modeling and start a career as a recluse songwriter?” 

His tone is light, easy, but Louis doesn’t think he’s heard of anything better. 

“That’s not too shabby of an idea you’ve got there, Harold.” 

“Yeah?” his tone is curious. 

“Yeah,” Louis confirms in a low voice. “I don’t think it’s actually too bad.” 

\---

Louis has one more little shoot, a small gig for a low level gay magazine the day after he comes back from Paris. 

Poor planning on his part, especially because he’s four seconds away from sexting with Harry, and he’d really like to see him as soon as he gets home. 

_What are you wearing?_ was the text that Louis had sent after situating himself comfortable in his bed. 

_Louis. Are you serious?_

_What? Can’t a man ask what another man is wearing?????_

_Louis. I’ve been thinking about your ass grinding up against me for the last 3 weeks, wondering about what your mouth tastes like._

Louis’ mouth is dry instantly. Another text comes in. 

_So no, a man can not just simply ask what another man is wearing. Especially when the one is receiving shirtless selfies way too frequently to not be a little sexually frustrated._

Louis tries to type at least three different responses before finally settling on one. 

_Well, the feeling is definitely mutual._

Honestly, Louis can’t even remember the last time he had sex (and he’s pretty sure he and Harry drunkenly had a conversation after night out with the other models where Harry had admitted the same) and the curves of Harry’s body, and the memory of his hands on his hips are enough to fuel Louis to keep going. 

The next thing that arrives is a picture message and a winky face emoji. 

Louis opens the picture with baited breath. It’s Harry’s hand over his pants, an obvious bulge underneath the thin material. 

Christ, Louis is going to die. 

He licks his lips instinctively. 

_We’re going on a date as soon as I come home, you know that right?_ is what he sends. Followed by a picture of his finger in his mouth, cheeks hollowed out. 

_Can’t wait is the response._

He calls him immediately. 

\----

Louis makes it home from Paris in the middle of the night, unable to see Harry as soon as he lands. Lottie picks him up from the airport, filling him on everything he’s missed the last three weeks. 

There’s a text from Harry too, saying _Can’t wait to see you tomorrow._

Honestly, home has never been so good. 

\---

Louis told Harry very explicitly to meet him at the shoot at 4:30 p.m., so they could go out on their date right after. Harry had mentioned wanting to see his “could-be” last shoot ever (something about it being sexy, he honestly was a little bit too turned on to remember). But in reality Louis couldn’t wait to see him. He couldn’t wait another second. Not another second. He needed to see him, needed to kiss his face immediately. 

So when the shoot is dragging on, and the second model still hasn’t shown, Louis is impatient and irritated. 

Harry opens the door to the building, stepping through with shiny boots and a polka-dotted button down, both Louis and the photographer breath a sigh of relief. 

Wait. 

“Oh thank God you’re here!” the photographer is yelling, and oh. 

He thinks Harry is the second model. 

Louis smiles at the look of complete and utter panic on Harry’s face.

“Arisa! Take him to get sorted now,” the photographer demands. 

Harry meets Louis’ eyes, but Louis just smiles and nods his head towards the hairstylist, mouthing ‘go ahead’. 

Harry follows. 

\----

Harry starts to understand the situation after the hair stylist tells him that they were waiting for him and that they’d been just using up film on Louis to buy time in case he didn’t show (to which he explains that he is ‘so sorry he got stuck in traffic’). 

When Harry emerges from the dressing room, it’s to the expectant eyes of Louis and the photographer.

 

Louis looks like he wants to eat him, his eyes dark and his lips red. Harry thinks briefly of the other night. 

The photographer, not so much. 

“What’s your name again? She seems to have lost the paper,” The photographer waves in the direction of his assistant next to him with a clipboard and her phone. 

This is it, Harry thinks. He thinks about how his life his, how everything could change in an instant. He thinks about all the talks he and Louis have had about privacy, about settling down, about life after modeling. He thinks of the recluse songwriter. 

“Mick,” he says definitively. “Mick Greenberg.” 

Louis’ smile is soft, eyes bright blue again. “Come on then, Mick. Think we’ve got a shoot to start.” 

Harry takes a deep breath and says, “Think we do, Louis.” 

Fuck it. 

\---

While it wasn’t expected of Harry and Louis to be so close during the shoot, they somehow end up pulling each other in, closer and closer, until their hips are firmly pressed against each other. 

There’s a couch, Harry thinks wildly, letting Louis push him onto it. 

Louis directs him in every way, every movement. 

He moves his body one way, shows off this collar in another, deft fingers padding over his neck. 

He climbs over Harry like Harry is prey, and honestly, this exceeds all of Harry’s wildest dreams. 

He’s vaguely sure that everyone can see that they’re both half hard, and by the lethal look in Louis’ eyes, he’s not really sure that Louis really cares. 

Or that he cares for that matter, actually. 

Not when Louis is manhandling him in the very best way, all hot heat, and wet presses of his mouth all over Harry’s body. He’s pretty sure, Louis palms him in one swift click of the camera, hand pressing down in all the right ways before it’s gone. 

Harry’s dying to kiss him, dying to get his lips on Louis’, but for now, he just succumbs to Louis’ heat, and lets go. 

\---

“You two have amazing chemistry,” is the first thing Harry hears when he finally snaps out of his trance of pink skin, blue eyes, and heat. 

“I think I have enough here, you guys are free to go,” the photographer dismisses them. 

Louis shoves Harry towards the dressing room, before walking up to the assistant with the clipboard. He smiles sweetly at her. Harry knows instantly she’s pudding in his hands. 

“Hi darling. Yeah, um, do you think I could get a copy of all the outtakes you use too? I’ll have my manager email you the details, Thank you so much!” he grabs the card that she weakly thrusts out at him, before waving at her and dragging Harry to the dressing room. 

Poor girl, he thinks lamely. 

Louis all but pushes Harry into the room, before shutting the door behind them and pressing him up against it. 

“Can’t believe how perfect you are for me. Can’t believe I get to take you on a date and woo you and be with you. Can’t believe how lucky I am,” he’s murmuring while taking off Harry’s shirt.

Harry just stares wildly at him before surging forward grabbing Louis’ face in both his hands and kissing him with all he has. 

Louis’ mouth opens instantly, the wet, warm, slide of their lips, fervent and hot, sizzling every part of Harry’s body, before melting into something delicious, sweet and slow.

Louis giggles into Harry’s mouth. 

“Hi,” Louis says, pecking him one more time. 

“Oops,” Harry smiles. “Think I crashed your ‘maybe last shoot’.” 

Louis kisses him again. “Think you made it the very best shoot I’ve ever had.” 

Harry cocks his head, stomach filling with butterflies. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Louis confirms, with a blinding smile. “Come on then, Mick. Think we’ve got a date to get to, don’t we?”

Harry’s almost sure he’s in love. 

\-----

They both manage to get dressed with minimal kissing, minimal touching, though Louis is honestly is not sure how he is able to resist all the pink and exposed skin. 

He tells himself he’s got a few more hours to get his mouth on him for the rest of the night. 

Rest of whenever, actually. 

The thought makes everything settle in Louis’ bones like a warmth he’s never felt before. 

“Ready?” Harry asks, sneaking the collar into his bag with a wink. 

Louis looks up at him, and it kinda. It kind of feels like forever. 

Harry opens the door to the dressing room, looking over his shoulder at Louis, with those big green eyes, that are undeniably warm, just to make sure Louis is following and. 

It feels like a promise. 

Louis goes. 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> post can be found [right here](http://yoursongonmyheart.tumblr.com/post/166378469161/you-pull-me-in)


End file.
